Hers Only

Chapter 5

Erin let himself into the house he shared with his grandmother a few minutes later he dropped his bag by the door and walked into the kitchen where he knew he would find her.

He smiled as he saw her standing by the stove busily stirring something that smelled heavenly. He watched her for a bit before he called out bringing her attention to him.

He signed, 'How was your day?' and had her signing back with a flurry of hand movements and deft fingers.

He smiled broader as he was told about her morning of weeding and pruning her vegetable garden, visiting with Mr Brown for a bit then return to catch up on her afternoon soap operas.

She had taken a nap afterwards and was now preparing his favourite meatballs and spaghetti with sauce made from her very own tomatoes from her garden.

'Smells delicious,' he signed and then smiled teasingly as he queried about their widowed next-door neighbour who was taken with his grandmother.

He watched as her creased face became alight with a fond expression as a warm smile spread across her lips before she waved him off and returned to stirring her sauce.

Was his grandmother actually blushing? It amused him to see that the older version of his mother as he often refers to her as both shared the same features and displayed quite a few behaviours that oftentimes bring forth a sense of nostalgia for him, actually giving in to such girlish behaviour.

He moved from where he stood and kissed her cheek fondly before he went to the sink to watch his hand and prepared to set the table.

He was happy to have her and grateful he had her to come home to. So much has changed in his life it was good to have her consistency around him. It kept him grounded.

There were so many tragedies that she had been through and still here she was ensuring that he had all he ever wanted and supporting him in all he set out to accomplish. He would not have been where he was if she wasn't his driving force. She was the strongest woman he knew.

Freida was a slim middle height woman with skin as dark as molasses and eyes that were the lightest blue you were ever going to see on a black woman. Her curly hair sported a patch of grey at the left temple while the rest still shun a brilliant black was brushed into a smooth bun at her nape. Her face was creased with age and in an old attractive way. To him she was like fine wine, she aged gracefully. All he wanted to do was make her proud. He felt a sense of guilt that in all she had shown him in how to be strong he had gone and let Misty bring him to weakness.

He placed the plate he was holding onto the table in a rush as the thought of Misty set feelings ablaze in him that sent him burning with shame. The fact that he was excited by the feel of her hands on him and his on her had him letting go of the plate in a hurry which sent it falling from the edge of the table where he had unconsciously placed it.

As it shattered at his feet he stepped back and swore. What the hell was happening to him? How could he allow Misty to come and tear down his defences the way she did? He had so many questions rushing about in his mind and as they flooded his senses he was filled with self-loathing.

He was about to reach for the broken shards when he felt his grandmother's hand on his shoulder and he stood up, turned around and faced her. He saw questions in her eyes that her lack of speech could not allow her to voice.

When her fingers signed for him to sit he knew it was time for him to share with her what was happening. He closed his eyes and sighed but he quickly opened them as an image of Misty clad in nothing but his jacket and her black lace panty filled his mind's eye.

"Fuck," he breathed because try as he might her nakedness was imprinted on his mind. He could even picture it without his eyes closed. He ran his hands over his face as he sat down as if trying to rub the images away. He needed to get her out of his mind.

He did not even like her. She was a devious creature that set out to play dangerously and he did not want to be a pawn in her game, but wasn't it too late for that? He had come home with nothing but her on his mind, the feel of her skin and the warmth of her womanhood still tingling on his fingers. She had imprinted herself on him in the way he knew he would never forget.

When his grandmother took a seat opposite him at the table the broken pieces of the plate were discarded and the sauce was now simmering on low heat. He swallowed the tears of frustration that sprang to his eyes as he tried to calm himself. He should not be letting Misty get the best of him, yet as he convinced himself of this he still felt lower than the ground.

'Speak,' she signed.

He looked down at his hands and watched as his fingers itched to tell his grandmother what happened but all he could once again see was Misty's face masked in delight as his fingers had stoked her warm heat and rendered him captivated.

'Is it Lisa?' she asked.

Lisa, oh God! He thought in dismay as he ran his hands over his face again.

The mention of her had him sinking lower than he already was. How could he betray her like this when he loved her with all his being? Lisa was his lifeline here when he had thought he was at his wit's end from being bombarded with his parent's death and the move from the only home he ever knew.

She had offered her selflessness, being a caring friend even when she had no reason to. It had taken little to nothing for him to fall in love with her and it seemed it had taken little to nothing for him to throw away all that love on a callous selfish bitch who could cost him one of the best things that ever happened to him.

He looked at his grandmother who sat patiently waiting but he was not ready to reveal to her just how low he had dunked himself. She had always held him is such high esteem it would be sad to see her disappointed in him.

Also, he could not find it in himself to share with anyone how he had betrayed Lisa. How he had let Misty brought him to the brink of disaster without so much as trying left him sick to the stomach with shame and at that moment Lisa was the last thing on his mind.

He got up from the chair and quickly signed to her that he had a headache and was going up to his room. When he rushed from the kitchen with a frowning Frieda staring after him it had never once crossed his mind that Misty would be the one to get her in his trap.

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Question: What should Erin do in righting this wrong, albeit it was no doing of his that he is very much now the fly in Misty's web?